


touch me like you do

by emmaofmisthaven



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:31:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5601811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaofmisthaven/pseuds/emmaofmisthaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of M-rated drabble based on Text From Last Night prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (630): We fucked twice, I went to the bathroom to freshen up, and came back to him playing "Your Body is A Wonderland" on his guitar naked in my bed.

Her breathing is ragged and her muscles sore already, skin buzzing and tingling with the aftermath of her orgasm. She closes her eyes with a sigh, barely able to believe it – it was only a one-night stand, picked up at a bar to celebrate the end of final exams. It couldn’t have – shouldn’t have – never was _that_ good before. Never has she been so thoroughly fucked before, especially by a total stranger. Especially _twice_ , oh god.

She fights back a laugh as she turns her head to stare at him, eyes following the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lips. He looks equally flushed and spent, pride surging through her at the thought – _not bad, girl, not bad at all_ – as she admires his profile. He’s handsome alright, in that tall, dark and English way that has her lower belly on fire – handsome and skilled, she’ll give him that, because damn the thing he can do with his tongue. Damn him.

He looks back at her, eyes hooded and almost glassy with exhaustion, smile equally tired – she almost snorts. Almost.

“Hey, do you mind if I…” she starts as she sits up on her elbows, letting the end of her sentence linger.

He gets it anyway. “No, sure. Second door to the right.”

She finds her panties and his shirt on the floor, slips them on, before she makes her way to the bathroom. She cleans herself quickly as she stares at everything around her, before she looks at herself in the mirror. And yeah, she doesn’t just feel thoroughly fucked, she looks like it too – red high on her cheeks and pupils blown black, hair a rightful mess, purple hickeys blossoming on her neck and collarbones. Great, just great.

She tries to tame her hair, using her fingers as a comb, until she faces reality and admits she’s stalling. With one last sigh, she leaves the room.

Only to repress a laugh when she comes back to the bedroom. He’s sitting cross-legged on his bed, of course perfectly naked, with his guitar in his lap as he plays some tune she’s vaguely familiar with. And she’d discovered he was good with his hands, but that is another thing altogether, one that she can only appreciate, in its over-the-topness. The tune changes as he flashes her a grin, and she soon recognizes the new song, almost rolls her eyes when he starts singing too.

(Because, of course he sings. He’s English and a sex god and a singer. Duh.)

“Damn baby, you frustrated me,” he croons as she folds her arms on her chest, effectively rolls her eyes this time – even with the ghost of a smile on her lips. “I know you’re mine, all mine, all mine…”

She moves closer to the bed until she’s standing in front of him, listening as he whispers about the wonders of her body. He must do that all the time, she thinks, serenade girls until they fall into his arms. He has that kind of face and attitude – she isn’t affected in the slightest, even if it makes her smile. Guys, really.

She grabs his chin between her fingers when he’s done, ignores the way he leans into her touch, plays with the hem of her (his) shirt. Frowns. “What’s your name again?”

He laughs, a deep, throaty chuckle that brings a shiver down her spine. “I do love to make an impression,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s Killian, love.”

“Well, _Killian_ ,” she purrs, “how do you feel about round three?”

His grin is the right side of wicked, and he almost throws his guitar across the room in his haste to grab her hips and pulls her back down on the bed – she laughs because he’s a moron, and toys with the need to give him her number right here and there. She could do with a great fuck who’s also a dork.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he replies before his mouth finds her pulsing point, and she has no doubt she will have another hickey to add to her ever-growing collection.

(The shirt flies across the room as they fall on the mattress in a tangle of limbs and breathless laughs – this isn’t how one-night stands are supposed to go, she thinks idly, but all thoughts fly across the room too when his lips travel south, when his mouth close around her nipple. She moans and arches her back, eyes closing on they own accord, as he gets rid of her panties with his free hand, fingers teasing her seconds later. She opens her leg a little wider, and he slips inside her in one easy thrust, his mouth finding her in a hungry kiss.)

(He sings the lyrics to the song as he moves inside her, and it’s seriously the hottest thing that’s ever happened in her life.)

(She reaches her third orgasm of the night before he does the chorus.)


	2. (763): I know I say this every year but 2015 will be the year I finally have sex with David's sister

Killian is all about traditions, you see. Spending Christmas with Tink because they both have no one else? Checked. Sending Bae a present even if the boy doesn’t want to hear from him? Checked. Annoying Ruby into pretending he won’t come to their New Year’s Eve party this year? Checked.

Ruffling David’s feathers?

“This year’s resolution…”

“Oh don’t you even start!”

 _Triple checked_.

Killian grins into his drink as his old college roommate glares at him under the confused gaze of Lancelot and amused one of Victor. It’s the oldest trick in the book, really, because David is easy to infuriate on a daily basis, and it becomes even easier when you put Emma into the equation. She might not be his sister by blood but it has never stopped David from being an insufferable older brother all the same – much to her displeasure, much to Killian’s delight.

The first time it had happened, well, Killian was three sheets to the wind (or four, or five). The memories are still fuzzy around the edges, even after all those years, and he blames it on Ruth’s spiked eggnog. Still, he remembers clear as day the way he’d teased David, a simple “Maybe this year will be the one I finally get to have sex with your sister,” and the only reason he hadn’t been punched is that David has quite the shitty aim when drunk.

Still. It became A Thing, because Killian is nothing but his irritating self when it comes to poking fun at his best friend. It’s all talk no harm, since Emma made it clear that Killian isn’t her type – by dating assholes like Walsh, mind you, but to each their own – and he isn’t one to force himself on a woman who doesn’t want him. But seeing David’s glare and heavy sigh every year is entertaining, even after a decade of the same old joke.

Like he said, Killian is all about traditions.

“What is that?” Lancelot asks, curious and oblivious – bless the man’s soul. He’s a new addition to their little group of friends, now that Gwen finally signed the last papers of her ugly divorce. Which means he’s still navigating the group’s private jokes and little habits.

Which means Killian’s grin widens, never one to lose an opportunity to take the piss at David even more. Those moments are all too rare, and to be cherished. “Well you see…”

“You’re not having sex with my sister.”

“Who’s not having sex with me?”

Because – aye, of course it had to happen that way, Killian’s eyes widening as both he and David turn around to find Emma standing right there. She has her arms folded on her chest, one hand holding a cup of champagne, and she wears the most breathtaking dress Killian has ever seen on her – and he’s seen a lot of them, what with their friends’ awful habit of getting married one after the other. Both her eyebrows are raised, but there is playfulness in her gaze, like she is happy to caught them by surprise.

(Sometimes, it’s hard to remember he says that thing _only_ to take the piss at David.)

“No one’s having sex with anyone,” David grumbles.

Emma’s eyebrows shoot even higher, if only that’s possible, and Killian wants to facepalm. The man has been living with his sister for two decades now, and yet still makes the rookie mistake of thinking he can’t deflect that kind of conversation. As if Emma wasn’t the most stubborn lass to ever walk the Earth. Even Killian knows that, everyone in this room knows that.

“Well, too bad,” Emma offers. “I could use a good fuck.”

Killian might imagine the way her gaze lingers on him for longer than is necessary before she leaves them. Maybe. He’s too busy choking on his own tongue to notice anything at all.

 

…

 

“You need to get on that,” Ruby tells him, half an hour before midnight. “You two are the only ones still single, that’s just sad.”

“Victor is single too. I don’t see you doing anything about that.”

“Victor is a pervert.” Ruby takes a sip of her champagne, unimpressed. “Beside, she’s into you.”

 

…

 

He tries not to overthink this but – he only has half an hour to decide if he makes his move, so. He actually overthinks this. A lot.

 

…

 

Her kisses are hurried and feverish, a clash of teeth and tongues and lips, but so are her fingers when she grabs his belt and fumbles with the buckle. Killian bumps his hip into a piece of furniture as he navigates his way into the bedroom, hisses into her mouth at the pain. She chuckles, low and amused, breaking away from the kiss just so she can get a better look at her handiwork.

He gets a better look at _her_ , heart skipping a beat at the sight of her – her lips are red and swollen, her hair a tangled mess where a bun was only an hour before. His work, running his fingers through her hair again and again as he deepened their kiss even when midnight was long gone. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, if the way the double dimples in her cheeks she flashes at him is anything to go by. If the way she’s battling with his clothes to take them off is anything to go by.

 _Blood fucking hell_.

A little laugh of victory escapes her lips when she wins the battle against his belt, and only then does Killian grabs her by the shoulders to spin her around. Her dress closes at the back and he watches, fascinated, her shiver when he zips it all the way down. The dress slips off her shoulders and slides down her body, leaving Emma bare to him – nothing but black panties and her high heels, nothing by the smooth expense of her fair skin.

He presses his lips to a freckle on her shoulder, then another, and another, drawing constellations on her skin with his tongue. She leans against his chest, head tilted back and mouth opened into a wordless gasp, one that turns into a moan when he brushes her breast with his knuckles.

“Gosh, Killian,” she whispers, and it goes straight to his cock as he bites down on the point between her shoulder and her neck.

He’s wanted her for so long – before Milah, after Milah – that he doesn’t even remember what it feels like, not being in love with her. He never thought he would act on his feelings, never thought she could ever find herself interested in him. But now, with Emma flushed and almost naked against him, it may be time to reconsider everything leading up to this moment.

Later. He’ll analyse everything later.

For now, he brings her to the bed, and Emma comes willingly, lying on it like the tempting goddess she’s always been. She smiles up at him, wicked, full of promises, so Killian can only get rid of his clothes as fast as he can before joining her, before pulling her into yet another kiss. He doesn’t know how he made it so far in life without knowing how her mouth taste, but knows he may die if he never gets to kiss her again after tonight.

He kisses his way down her body, lingering on her breasts until she’s breathless and panting, pulling his hair as his name tumbles out of her mouth in little moans. She has freckles there too, and he wants to kiss each one of them until he knows them by heart – wants to explore each inch of her body until he knows where she is the most sensitive, where to kiss and bite to get the best reactions out of her.

Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself – but then again maybe not, when he settles between her legs and looks up to her only to find her staring back with gentleness in her gaze. Lust, too, of course, but something loving, something he’s barely ever seen on her before. It suits her, and it’s all his for the taking, so Killian winks back before he slides her panties down her legs, before he kisses her mount and feels her twitching against his mouth.

His fingers brush against her folds, a groan on his tongue when he finds her slick with wetness. She’ll be the end of him, but what a good way to go, and he will bring her down with him as he adds his mouth to the equation, licking and sucking until her legs start trembling around him, until her moans turn into breathless nothings and her fingers tighten their hold on his hair.

She comes around his fingers, and he eases her through her orgasm, until she pulls at his shoulders and he moves his way back to her. She hums against his mouth, tasting herself on him when her tongue curls around his, while her hands tease at the hem of his boxers before pulling them down his hips.

“In the drawer,” she whispers to his ear.

He blames the way she wraps her fingers around him for not understand the meaning to her words quite yet, but – but he also thanks the Blanchards, for knowing their friends all too well and leaving condoms in the guestroom, apparently. Once he is done with the condom and towering above her again, Killian stills for a moment, brushing the hair way from her face. Emma looks back, eyes still a little hazy with her orgasm, but so soft and tender too, almost loving.

“Tell me this isn’t a one-time thing,” he asks.

He needs to ask, needs to know – it may break his heart, but better this than waking up in the middle of the night and finding her gone. At least he’ll know, if this was supposed to be a one-night stand, a way to start 2016 with a good fuck, or… He doesn’t dare thinking about an ‘or’ right now.

“What was that thing with David?” she asks back.

He laughs, a little self-deprecating, the red of his cheeks having nothing to do with the heat of the room. “Every year I tell him this will be the year I have sex with you.”

Her eyebrows rise, a smile dances on her lips. “Why?”

“Because it started when we were 18 and I’ve never stopped wanting you ever since.”

She gasps, her eyes widening. This might be too much for her, he knows. Neal left her after getting her pregnant, and she’s been running away from commitment ever since. Graham, Walsh, even Elsa – Killian has seen how Emma runs away every time it becomes too much, hides behind the excuse of Henry and not being ready yet. And yet here he is, offering his heart to her on a silver platter and hoping for the best.

“And what happens after?” she goes on, her voice shy.

He blinks down at her, for a moment, before a grin blossoms on his mouth as he brushes his lips to hers. “Well, love, that’s up to you. A date would be nice, for a start.”

“For a start.”

“Aye.”

She stares at him – feelings flashing through her eyes, from disbelief to confusion to fear, worry, and finally hope. Determination, at last, when she puts a hand on his neck and pulls him down to her. This kiss is different, softer, slower, and Killian pours all of his feelings into it, al this love he has built up through the years until he didn’t know what to do with it. She’s equally loving and delicate, tentative, until she smiles into the kiss and flips them over.

Her grin is the most beautiful thing Killian has ever seen, stealing the breath away from his lungs even more than her fingers around his cock as she lines herself up, sinks down on him inch by glorious inch. She arches her back, hands on his chest, as she starts moving above him – he closes his eyes at the feeling of her around him, above him, until it’s no longer enough and he opens them again.

She’s a sight to behold – blonde hair falling around her face, red mouth opened into a gasp, breasts bouncing with each sway of her hips. He grabs her by the waste, gives as good as he gets, before his hand caresses its way down her stomach, fingers pressing where their bodies meet. She moans when he pinches her clit, her walls tightening around her, so he does it again until she comes a second time, falling back against his chest in a tangled of limbs.

He switches their positions again, and it barely takes a few seconds before he’s there too, biting down on his own tongue not to cry out. She runs her fingers through his hair afterward, his nose pressed to her neck, both of them refusing to move until it becomes uncomfortable and they have no other choice but to get rid of the condom.

He doesn’t dare pulling her to him when he falls back in bed, but Emma does so willingly – she grabs his arm and pulls it around her own waist, so Killian smiles as he hugs her tighter and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“And a happy new year to you too,” she whispers, exhausted but content.

“The happiest.”


End file.
